


Dreamhunters

by JadeAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Castiel (Supernatural), F/F, Jack Kline as God, The Impala (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27869802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeAngel/pseuds/JadeAngel
Summary: Kaia used to be a dream walker. But now that Chuck has destroyed all of the alternate worlds, she’s left only with nightmarish remnants of what her power once was. After an especially off putting dream, Kaia leans on her new found family for support. That’s when they all discover, they still have work to do.
Relationships: Kaia Nieves & Claire Novak





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The name at the beginning of each chapter indicates which character’s perspective you’ll be reading from. I’ll also have the time of day listed.
> 
> I have an idea of where I want to take this but I’m not sure how long it will be. However, you’re welcome to come along for the ride.

THE NIGHT BEFORE

KAIA

I don’t remember sitting up or collecting the sheets into small bundles under my clenched fists, but that’s the state I’m in as I wake, gasping for air, the rapid beating of my heart pounding in my chest. Dark brown strands of hair stick to the edges of my face and neck, damp with sweat. I scan the area with my eyes to confirm the location, searching for any indication something may be out of place, that I’m still dreaming. Releasing my death grip on the sheets, I slide my hand up my forearm, taking the flesh between my thumb and index finger and pinch. The pain is isolated at first, but quickly spreads throughout my arm, producing a painful tingling sensation that reaches upwards to find my shoulder.

“This is real.”

I inhale deeply through my nose and exhale through my mouth, attempting to regulate my breathing and slow my heart rate. It’s a breathing exercise Alex showed me to stifle the panic attacks brought on by persistent nightmares. It usually works, but tonight the lessons seem to have been for naught. 

I turn at my waist to reach for my pillow, flipping it over to hide the wet spot left by night sweats. I lie back on the fresh, dry side of the pillow and set my eyes on the figure next to me. Reaching out, I lightly graze the cheek of my sleeping companion, outlining her face with my hand and carefully pushing long strands of hair behind her ear. Claire doesn’t stir at my touch; her breathing remains steady. I emulate her rhythmic breaths until we’re in sync and I too am breathing steadily, the beat of my heart no longer a drum in my ears. 

Lying there, still and calm, I take in Claire completely; the softness of her skin under my fingers and the delicate tendrils cascading down her pillow in soft blonde waves. Tension suddenly rises in my chest, threatening to rob me of the serenity I’d attained just a moment ago. The gap between us can’t be more than a foot wide but it feels as though it’s widening. Fear strikes me as I consider the prospect of her moving further away from me.

Without thinking, I slip my hand passed Claire’s shoulder, down her arm and to her wrist. Once there, I gently tug at the green long sleeve t-shirt she wears, coaxing her towards me. Seemingly still asleep, Claire responds in kind and adjusts her position, pulling me closer to her reflexively. I nuzzle my face under her chin, our arms and legs intertwining into a tangle of limbs. The proximity has a calming affect that stifles my rising fear. I close my eyes, breathe in the scent of freshly baked bread that Claire naturally emits and gently place a kiss on her neck. The still calm returns as I surrender to exhaustion. Just before I drift off into what would prove to be a dreamless sleep, I remind myself once more in a barely audible whisper, 

“This is real”.


	2. No Rest for the Weary

EARLY MORNING

CLAIRE

I open my eyes just as the first rays of sun shine through my window. Kaia is still sleeping, curled up against me in the fetal position looking small and unassuming. I carefully slip my arm from under her neck, slowly inching my way free as to not wake her. Once liberated, I sit on the edge of the bed thinking of the day ahead and all the days that have proceeded it. 

It’s an unconscious morning ritual of mine to start a playback of significant life moments that have lead me to the present, to sitting in this room next to a sleeping Kaia. I usually put a stop to it as soon as it starts but today I decide not to build any walls, drop all distractions, and let my thoughts run their natural course. My mind first travels to early childhood; playing at the park, the look and feel of my favorite doll, the kids in my old Sunday School class and how uncomfortable the wooden pews in our church were, how insanely devout my parents were to their faith. My Parents.

I squeeze my eyes shut as if doing so will push the memories back down. But inevitably, thoughts of my family resurface, my mother and father first and then Jody, Alex, Dean, and Castiel. It’s at this that I remember why I build walls in the first place, why I don’t usually allow my thoughts to have such free reign. The painful memories of my parents are scared over, ever present but no longer so painful that I find them debilitating. But losing Cas is still fresh in mind, as though someone took a knife to the thick scar tissue left by my parents and sliced in deep, reopening the wound to make it raw, exposed, and unsightly. I don’t want to look at it, so I resolve not to. 

I turn back toward Kaia, lean in and press my lips to her forehead. I sit back and stare at her, memorizing every feature of her face and the sound of her breathing, in an attempt to press the unpleasant memories back into the deepest recesses of my mind and replace them with thoughts of only her. It’s not the healthiest coping mechanism, but she’s an easy distraction from all the things I’m not ready to deal with. I convince myself it’s ok for now, because she’s beautiful and she’s here, and other than hunting, that’s all I have. I inhale deeply and will myself out of bed to officially start my morning.

I stand, shaking the blood flow back into my numbed left arm and walk over to the closet to grab jeans and a white t-shirt before making my way to the restroom. I’m quiet, downright stealthy actually, as I move swiftly through my morning routine without waking Kaia. I attribute this to the last few years hunting all breeds of monster. Vamps and werewolves specifically have become my specialty as of late. They usually require a more tactical, guerrilla war fare like approach considering they rarely travel alone. It’s a far cry from how I used to hunt, running into a nest head first, slicing at the necks of every vamp in sight, no plan or exit strategy to be executed. 

My impulsivity used to drive Jody nuts, still does on the rare occasion the trait re-emerges without warning. There was a time she’d lecture me till it felt like neither of us could breathe. I’d shout in response about how she didn’t understand me, didn’t trust me, didn’t think me capable. I was convinced there was nothing she could say or do that could change my mind about hunting, until one day, she did. 

————————————————————————

It wasn’t long after we’d gotten Kai back from The Bad Place that I got word of a nest, small, three or so vamps, making their way through the locals in a town close to Sioux Falls. I started packing my gear immediately, without hesitation. Kai watched me for a few moments before stepping outside to sit on the porch. She was quickly replaced by Jody in my doorway, standing there like a statue, arms folded and completely silent. She waited till I finished packing and started my trek to the front door before she said the words that stopped me in my tracks.

“You think Kaia is ready for a real hunt?”

A part of me had known Kai would want to go with me, but I can’t say I’d considered what that could mean for her. I stood there, and for the first time, contemplated the repercussions of leaving. Kai and I hadn’t known each other long, but we’d latched onto each other somehow. She steadied me, and I had reason to be believe I did the same for her.

Jody hadn’t moved accept to lean against the door frame of my room. She stared at me with knowing eyes when I turned and walked back toward her, bags in tow. It was one thing to risk myself, but I couldn’t risk Kai, and I couldn’t stop her from following me if I went.

————————————————————————

I tie my hair into a half ponytail as I head for the kitchen to turn on the coffee Alex prepped last night before heading to a late shift at the hospital. She usually keeps a pot at the ready, understanding the shared need for caffeine in this house. It’s one of the little things I love about Alex, though I’ll never say it to her face; she can be thoughtful in the simplest of ways. That, and her coffee is better than anyone else’s in the house. 

My caffeine fix is generally satisfied with one or two cups in the morning. Kai on the other hand, drinks coffee like it’s a food group. The timer goes off on the coffee pot and so I pull two cups from the cupboard and fill the first with the dark steaming liquid, leaving the second empty but ready for use. I lean against the counter, legs crossed, arms folded and bring the cup to my lips. It’s too hot to drink without burning myself, but I tilt the cup forward anyway, keeping it close to my mouth to sip every few seconds. The house remains quiet save for the click of my throat as I swallow. I savor the pairing, the silence and the feel of hot liquid running down my throat. The clock on the wall reads just passed six. I’m alone now, but not for long. The house will come alive soon. 

I set my coffee and laptop up at the kitchen table and start reading the online news reports when Kai walks in. She’s dressed in the black short sleeved shirt and shorts she slept in. Her hair hangs loose, most of it pulled over to one side, touching just below her shoulder. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, staggers over to the coffee pot, and pours. The cup I left her is filled to the rim as she inches it to her parted lips, her empty hand following underneath to catch any spillage that might roll over the edge. 

“Morning.” Kai speaks between sips in a raspy whisper, eyes still adjusting to the morning light shining through the kitchen window. 

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” I look up at her from my own coffee and she pauses a moment, contemplating her response. I already know the answer, already know she’s going to lie, maybe even before she does.

“Fine.” We stare at each other just long enough for the air between us to thicken with words left unsaid and feelings unacknowledged. I open my mouth to fill the space and she breaks contact, glancing down at her cup. 

“I’m gonna get some fresh air.” And with that, she walks to the front door, coffee in hand, slips on the shoes she keeps near the entrance, and steps out onto the porch.

I know she hasn’t been sleeping well and not because of the excessive coffee intake, which is the excuse I know she’ll use if I confront her. The need for caffeine is just a symptom of a bigger problem. She wakes in a panic almost every night, last night being the most recent occurrence. It always wakes me when she does, although I usually pretend I’m undisturbed by it. The one time I actively tried to comfort Kai, she seemed embarrassed and completely shut off from me. It’s only when I pretend to be sleeping that she seeks my comfort and openly allows me to soothe her, and so, I’ve been playing comatose. If she would tell me what’s happening, maybe I could protect her, conquer her demons for her. Mostly I just want Kai to be able to rest, really rest, without being afraid. Then maybe, so could I.


	3. Gently Down

PATIENCE

Souix Falls doesn’t ever actually get warm, but it’s especially brisk in the mornings. Today is no different. A heavy chill hangs in the air, providing a welcome contrast to the heat emanating from my skin and the friction of my sneakers padding across the pavement. It’s just me and the road, and for the last few months, I’ve found that these morning runs are the only thing that allow me to feel like myself. It’s one of the downsides of my condition. 

Being psychic doesn’t always feel like a gift. Every thought feels as though it’s been hijacked by someone else, and I’m left alone to sort out which of those thoughts actually belong to me. In those moments, the gift becomes a curse loudly reverberating in my mind. So, I use the morning runs to quiet the noise, beating down the thoughts with every step and releasing my worries with each exhale. I shut my mind down, dulling everything that’s complicated or overly complex. Only my breathing, putting one foot in front of the other, and the beating of my heart are in focus now. I just run. It doesn’t matter where or for how long. I’ll let my body decide when it’s had enough. 

—————————————-———————-———

I know I’m soon to reach my limit when one by one, my senses start coming back to my consciousness. I take in the smell of freshly cut grass, the taste of the crisp clean air of Souix Falls on my tongue; I feel the friction of my clothing rubbing against my skin and beads of sweat rolling down my back. Scanning my surroundings, I focus now on catching my bearings and figuring out where I am. Up until now, I hadn’t been paying attention to my location, instead letting gravity pull me in the right direction.

Looking up I spot a staircase ascending into a large building, darkness pervading through its glass doors and windows. The sign to my right reads, Mikkelson. Apparently my run led me all the way to St Augustine University’s library. It’s still early, too early for the library to be open or for students and instructors to populate the campus roads and buildings, yet I’m somehow compelled to go inside. It’s as if I’m being drawn in by the same gravitational pull that brought me to stand in front of the building in the first place. I decide not to fight it, but instead take the steps slowly, closing the gap between myself and the building’s front doors. 

With each step, more of the building comes into view, less and less of it shaded by the branches of the Elm trees just outside of it. I notice a large, white, oddly shaped plaque plastered onto the outer wall of the library, not yet completely unobstructed by shrubbery. I take the next few steps quickly, anxious to adjust my vantage point and reveal the image in it’s entirety. I stop when my eyes are able to take it in fully, standing at the top of the stairs, looking now at what appears to be the figure of an angel.

Its not out of the ordinary to see the depiction of an angel on a Lutheran College campus. And there’s nothing particularly special about this one, looking somewhat worn and chipped in several places, as if it hasn’t been properly cared for. Despite how severely average it appears, I can’t help but stare.

I move to step closer to the image, my hand involuntarily pulling away from my body to reach out and touch it. It’s only when I catch something flicker in my peripheral that my attention is pulled from the celestial creature. Where there was once only darkness, there is now a glimmer of light that peeks through the windows of the library. I’m not sure when I turn and move closer to the door and before I can stop myself, I’m pushing it open and stepping inside.

Stillness fills the library, and although the space appears empty, goosebumps rise on the back of my neck as the unmistakable sense that I’m being watched radiates through my body. My instinct is to shout out to the presence I feel in the room, but the logical part of my mind silences me. This building is undoubtedly supposed to be closed, and I’m definitely not supposed to be here.

The room itself is more narrow than wide, with a collection of large wooden tables occupying the length of the area in two neat rows. Each row is about ten feet apart creating an aisle between the two that’s a perfect walking path. The aisle leads to a small communal area, furnished with dark blue couches placed in a semi circle in front of a great fireplace. 

My eyes run down the aisle and pull up to rest on a figure standing at the end of the room just in front of the communal area. I know him; I shouldn’t be scared but my body doesn’t seem to agree. I’ve gone completely ridged and my limbs are much to heavy to move. He’d never hurt me, I know that, but I also know something isn’t right. He’s just as much out of place here as I am and his presence summons waves of nerve induced nausea in my stomach.

“J-Jack?” My throat closes around the name, stifling it into a tense strained whisper as it leaves my mouth. 

He doesn’t move, perhaps he didn’t hear me. I inhale deeply and push the word out again releasing all the air from my lungs in an effort to get his attention.

“JACK!”

He turns his head to look at me out of the corner of his eye. His body soon follows until he is fully facing me. He doesn’t look any different from when I last saw him, in his beige colored jacket and washed blue jeans. But the feeling he evokes in me isn’t the same as before. I think he might speak as he raises his arm to expose the inside of his palm, fingers extended. Quietly, I wait to hear the melodic, singsong like greeting that has always been so uniquely Jack’s. Instead, his fingers curl into his palm slowly and his arm extends out to point to something behind me.

She hadn’t been there when I entered. I’m sure of it; yet here she is now, sitting behind the circulation counter, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed, thinning her otherwise pale but full cheeks. She pushes her long dark hair behind her ear as she watches me with a look of either confusion or annoyance. I’m not quite sure which. Either way, I have more important matters at hand than a frustrated librarian. 

I turn back to confront Jack, but he’s gone. “Jack?!...JACK!”

“Quiet!” I feel the librarian’s breath on my neck as she whispers to me with an intensity generally reserved for shouting. “You are too loud!” She breaks up the statement, putting emphasis on each word. 

“Please—I’m just trying to find my friend. H-he was just standing by the fireplace. Do you know him?” My voice shakes with a mixture of desperation and apprehension as I slowly and carefully turn to face the woman. 

I can’t fathom why I’m suddenly frightened of her, she’s just a normal woman, rather slight in size and stature really. If it came down to a fight, I could take her easily, not that there’s any reason to believe she plans to attack me. However, this knowledge in no way slows my racing heart or helps me produce enough saliva to swallow the lump forming in my throat.

“I’m tired of you people like you coming in here making noise!”, she spits the words out through her clenched teeth. 

My eyes are glued to her as she moves around me causing my body to naturally spin so that my back is facing the door. She stands opposite me, less than a foot away.

“Get out” her words are slow, deliberate, and intense.

“Wait, please—“

“GET OUT!” Her hands slam hard against my chest, toppling me over. I scramble on the floor, trying to put my feet back under me, but before I catch my footing, she’s on me again. Her hands wrap tightly around my wrist as she drags me across the floor toward the exit. My mind is telling me to get up, fight. Hell, say something at least. But I’m frozen with fear, only warmed by the friction of my body effortlessly gliding across the floor.

The exit is in front of us when she releases my wrist, moving to clasp angrily onto the collar of my shirt. Slowly she forces me to my feet with a strength that seems out of place for someone so small. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t fight back. I’m not so sure I could take her in a fight after all.

I’m on my feet and without hesitation, she slams her hands into my chest once more, causing me to tumble though the door and onto the top step of the outer stairway. She stands just inside the open doors with narrowed brown eyes, her head tilted slightly looking down at me as I lie on my back. There’s an emotion behind the expression that I can’t quite place; I only know it’s not a welcoming one. She reaches for the door handles and slams them shut, locking me out.

As badly as I want to go back inside, want to find Jack, I resolve not to, not without telling Jody first. I sit up and carefully push myself off the cement stair when I hear high pitched laughter coming from behind me. I turn, putting my back to the door to look out. 

It’s not out of the ordinary to see such a scene as the one before me in a place like Souix Falls. But we’re on a university campus before 8 AM with not another living soul in sight. All variables considered, the four young girls playing in the grass, singing nursery rhymes is odd. I take a step closer, the toe of my sneaker teetering off the edge to the step.

Little voices sing in unison, “Row row row your boat gently down the stream, merrily merrily merrily merrily..

I feel pressure on my shoulder, causing me to turn abruptly in search of its source. Standing between me and the library door is one of the young girls that I’d just seen playing in the grass. I look down at her, her hand is steady on my shoulder, her eyes raised to meet mine.

“Life is but a dream” she whispers as she lightly forces me backwards.

I lose my balance on the edge of the step and in what feels like slow motion, I go, gently down, into waking life.


End file.
